II. PENUMBRA
drop-cap
Hearkento the hammers, endlessly hammering,The din of wheels, the drone of wheels, the furnacesPanting, where Man as in a demon-palace toilsTo forge the giant creatures of his brain.He has banished the spring and the innocence of leavesFrom the blackened waste he has made; the infected skyGlooms with a sun aghast, and the murk of the nightIs peopled with tall flames like spirits insane.He strips himself to the heat, not of the jovial sun,But of the scorch of furnaces; with naked breastSweating beneath the iron and blear glass, amidThe hammers’ hammering and the wheels’ roar.Not with grapes of October trodden underfootSpurting juices of ripeness in runnels, his vatsBrim, but with gushes flickered-over and blinding,Unshapen spilth and blaze of molten ore.With a finger he lifts the weight of mountain-sidesPoised; the metal mass he shears red-hot in a trice;He has given to the animate iron thews of force,A Titan’s pulse, and breath of fiery draught.Monsters mightier far than himself he createsTo swim storming seas, and to mount in miles of air,To deride Space and the old opposition of Time:Their speed is like strong drink that he has quaffed.He has the tamed lightning to do his bidding, drawsEnergies out of the veins of earth; he is armedFrom all elements, woven as in a magic web;He has stolen seeds of Death, wherewith to fight.He holds fabled terrors of the ancient gods in his hand—In a handful of dust, earthquake and pestilence;He exults to destroy, to obliterate, to beLord of the powers of the engulfing night.Deafened with the hammers, inebriate with the soundOf the powers he has raised out of their jealous lair,He has fever within him, he becomes dizzy,And craves, and knows not whither he is bound.Shall he attain god-like felicity of ease,Supreme articulate voice of nature’s striving,Or builds he a vast prison for himself, a slaveWith iron of his own strong forging crowned?Insatiable of ransacked worlds, and exultingFuriously in feet-supplanting speed, the proud-eyedVictor, he who has come so far, so far, looks forthTo achieve the eluded glory of his goal.What solitude is this that suddenly he enters?Voices of earth no more with anchoring kindness call.The fevered hammers throb; but deep within he knowsThe desert he has made in his own soul.O where is now the dew-dropt radiance of morning,That sistered with him leafing tree and rippling stream,When simple of heart in the sun with a free bodyHe accepted all the boundaries of his mind?Full of fears he was then, shadowed with helpless needTo propitiate Powers that threatened each footstep.Has he escaped from those old terrors, to be preyOf fears more terrible because less blind?
Hearkento the hammers, endlessly hammering,The din of wheels, the drone of wheels, the furnacesPanting, where Man as in a demon-palace toilsTo forge the giant creatures of his brain.He has banished the spring and the innocence of leavesFrom the blackened waste he has made; the infected skyGlooms with a sun aghast, and the murk of the nightIs peopled with tall flames like spirits insane.He strips himself to the heat, not of the jovial sun,But of the scorch of furnaces; with naked breastSweating beneath the iron and blear glass, amidThe hammers’ hammering and the wheels’ roar.Not with grapes of October trodden underfootSpurting juices of ripeness in runnels, his vatsBrim, but with gushes flickered-over and blinding,Unshapen spilth and blaze of molten ore.With a finger he lifts the weight of mountain-sidesPoised; the metal mass he shears red-hot in a trice;He has given to the animate iron thews of force,A Titan’s pulse, and breath of fiery draught.Monsters mightier far than himself he createsTo swim storming seas, and to mount in miles of air,To deride Space and the old opposition of Time:Their speed is like strong drink that he has quaffed.He has the tamed lightning to do his bidding, drawsEnergies out of the veins of earth; he is armedFrom all elements, woven as in a magic web;He has stolen seeds of Death, wherewith to fight.He holds fabled terrors of the ancient gods in his hand—In a handful of dust, earthquake and pestilence;He exults to destroy, to obliterate, to beLord of the powers of the engulfing night.Deafened with the hammers, inebriate with the soundOf the powers he has raised out of their jealous lair,He has fever within him, he becomes dizzy,And craves, and knows not whither he is bound.Shall he attain god-like felicity of ease,Supreme articulate voice of nature’s striving,Or builds he a vast prison for himself, a slaveWith iron of his own strong forging crowned?Insatiable of ransacked worlds, and exultingFuriously in feet-supplanting speed, the proud-eyedVictor, he who has come so far, so far, looks forthTo achieve the eluded glory of his goal.What solitude is this that suddenly he enters?Voices of earth no more with anchoring kindness call.The fevered hammers throb; but deep within he knowsThe desert he has made in his own soul.O where is now the dew-dropt radiance of morning,That sistered with him leafing tree and rippling stream,When simple of heart in the sun with a free bodyHe accepted all the boundaries of his mind?Full of fears he was then, shadowed with helpless needTo propitiate Powers that threatened each footstep.Has he escaped from those old terrors, to be preyOf fears more terrible because less blind?
Hearkento the hammers, endlessly hammering,The din of wheels, the drone of wheels, the furnacesPanting, where Man as in a demon-palace toilsTo forge the giant creatures of his brain.He has banished the spring and the innocence of leavesFrom the blackened waste he has made; the infected skyGlooms with a sun aghast, and the murk of the nightIs peopled with tall flames like spirits insane.
Hearkento the hammers, endlessly hammering,
The din of wheels, the drone of wheels, the furnaces
Panting, where Man as in a demon-palace toils
To forge the giant creatures of his brain.
He has banished the spring and the innocence of leaves
From the blackened waste he has made; the infected sky
Glooms with a sun aghast, and the murk of the night
Is peopled with tall flames like spirits insane.
He strips himself to the heat, not of the jovial sun,But of the scorch of furnaces; with naked breastSweating beneath the iron and blear glass, amidThe hammers’ hammering and the wheels’ roar.Not with grapes of October trodden underfootSpurting juices of ripeness in runnels, his vatsBrim, but with gushes flickered-over and blinding,Unshapen spilth and blaze of molten ore.
He strips himself to the heat, not of the jovial sun,
But of the scorch of furnaces; with naked breast
Sweating beneath the iron and blear glass, amid
The hammers’ hammering and the wheels’ roar.
Not with grapes of October trodden underfoot
Spurting juices of ripeness in runnels, his vats
Brim, but with gushes flickered-over and blinding,
Unshapen spilth and blaze of molten ore.
With a finger he lifts the weight of mountain-sidesPoised; the metal mass he shears red-hot in a trice;He has given to the animate iron thews of force,A Titan’s pulse, and breath of fiery draught.Monsters mightier far than himself he createsTo swim storming seas, and to mount in miles of air,To deride Space and the old opposition of Time:Their speed is like strong drink that he has quaffed.
With a finger he lifts the weight of mountain-sides
Poised; the metal mass he shears red-hot in a trice;
He has given to the animate iron thews of force,
A Titan’s pulse, and breath of fiery draught.
Monsters mightier far than himself he creates
To swim storming seas, and to mount in miles of air,
To deride Space and the old opposition of Time:
Their speed is like strong drink that he has quaffed.
He has the tamed lightning to do his bidding, drawsEnergies out of the veins of earth; he is armedFrom all elements, woven as in a magic web;He has stolen seeds of Death, wherewith to fight.He holds fabled terrors of the ancient gods in his hand—In a handful of dust, earthquake and pestilence;He exults to destroy, to obliterate, to beLord of the powers of the engulfing night.
He has the tamed lightning to do his bidding, draws
Energies out of the veins of earth; he is armed
From all elements, woven as in a magic web;
He has stolen seeds of Death, wherewith to fight.
He holds fabled terrors of the ancient gods in his hand—
In a handful of dust, earthquake and pestilence;
He exults to destroy, to obliterate, to be
Lord of the powers of the engulfing night.
Deafened with the hammers, inebriate with the soundOf the powers he has raised out of their jealous lair,He has fever within him, he becomes dizzy,And craves, and knows not whither he is bound.Shall he attain god-like felicity of ease,Supreme articulate voice of nature’s striving,Or builds he a vast prison for himself, a slaveWith iron of his own strong forging crowned?
Deafened with the hammers, inebriate with the sound
Of the powers he has raised out of their jealous lair,
He has fever within him, he becomes dizzy,
And craves, and knows not whither he is bound.
Shall he attain god-like felicity of ease,
Supreme articulate voice of nature’s striving,
Or builds he a vast prison for himself, a slave
With iron of his own strong forging crowned?
Insatiable of ransacked worlds, and exultingFuriously in feet-supplanting speed, the proud-eyedVictor, he who has come so far, so far, looks forthTo achieve the eluded glory of his goal.What solitude is this that suddenly he enters?Voices of earth no more with anchoring kindness call.The fevered hammers throb; but deep within he knowsThe desert he has made in his own soul.
Insatiable of ransacked worlds, and exulting
Furiously in feet-supplanting speed, the proud-eyed
Victor, he who has come so far, so far, looks forth
To achieve the eluded glory of his goal.
What solitude is this that suddenly he enters?
Voices of earth no more with anchoring kindness call.
The fevered hammers throb; but deep within he knows
The desert he has made in his own soul.
O where is now the dew-dropt radiance of morning,That sistered with him leafing tree and rippling stream,When simple of heart in the sun with a free bodyHe accepted all the boundaries of his mind?Full of fears he was then, shadowed with helpless needTo propitiate Powers that threatened each footstep.Has he escaped from those old terrors, to be preyOf fears more terrible because less blind?
O where is now the dew-dropt radiance of morning,
That sistered with him leafing tree and rippling stream,
When simple of heart in the sun with a free body
He accepted all the boundaries of his mind?
Full of fears he was then, shadowed with helpless need
To propitiate Powers that threatened each footstep.
Has he escaped from those old terrors, to be prey
Of fears more terrible because less blind?
II. 2
Ah, did men feign you once, triumphant Sirens,Omnipotent in your lureOn a far spice-island over legendary surgesSinging, and divine you with the famished eyes of mariners,Listen in a trance to your voices, but listenIn a dream secure?Lost amid strange and hungry watersThey fabled the storm-worn sailor stungBy a vision of arms outstretched at the end of the world,—Eternal woman, wonderful, with a bosomHeaved as with love, and with warm, white eyelidsOver eyes cruel and young.From those voluptuous throats, magical throats,As out of a coral-lipped, an ivory-colouredDazzling flower, tormenting sweetness floats,Sweetness of voices, odour of strange, strange longingFelt on the flesh like trail of perfumed hair,In sound that stole like soft arms round the soulDrawn thither and inescapably awareOf nothing but the extreme ache to pressLips on those lips, that thirst to suck the breath,The heart’s blood, into theirs, till eyes grow dull,Till lips be lips no longer, and only a skullRoll from your feast of death,O sated Sirens!But what if it be that fond perfidious VoicesWith different music lureEven us who have cast far from us the fables of old?If the pride of our quest undo us, and they enchant usSimple as those lost mariners, but no longerIn dream secure?If not with sorcery of song in a scarlet mouthAnd with eyes of desireYou ensnare the easy senses and perishing flesh,But with spiritual lure you hunger to entice usBeyond the borders of knowledge, O evilly enamoured,O terrible choir?If shadowy at the end of time you wait,Wooing subtly the while Man’s spirit, temptedOn ever more extravagant quest, and baitHis blood with charm of secrecy and peril,Ay, and waylay the longings of his mind,Yielding by dear degrees what he exults to seize,Until he glows to seem the unconfinedMaster of earth, the world’s sole will, but onlyThat you may taste his glory, spent and shared,Before you press upon his lips the lastKiss of annihilation, and he be castInto the void prepared,Malignant Sirens!
Ah, did men feign you once, triumphant Sirens,Omnipotent in your lureOn a far spice-island over legendary surgesSinging, and divine you with the famished eyes of mariners,Listen in a trance to your voices, but listenIn a dream secure?Lost amid strange and hungry watersThey fabled the storm-worn sailor stungBy a vision of arms outstretched at the end of the world,—Eternal woman, wonderful, with a bosomHeaved as with love, and with warm, white eyelidsOver eyes cruel and young.From those voluptuous throats, magical throats,As out of a coral-lipped, an ivory-colouredDazzling flower, tormenting sweetness floats,Sweetness of voices, odour of strange, strange longingFelt on the flesh like trail of perfumed hair,In sound that stole like soft arms round the soulDrawn thither and inescapably awareOf nothing but the extreme ache to pressLips on those lips, that thirst to suck the breath,The heart’s blood, into theirs, till eyes grow dull,Till lips be lips no longer, and only a skullRoll from your feast of death,O sated Sirens!But what if it be that fond perfidious VoicesWith different music lureEven us who have cast far from us the fables of old?If the pride of our quest undo us, and they enchant usSimple as those lost mariners, but no longerIn dream secure?If not with sorcery of song in a scarlet mouthAnd with eyes of desireYou ensnare the easy senses and perishing flesh,But with spiritual lure you hunger to entice usBeyond the borders of knowledge, O evilly enamoured,O terrible choir?If shadowy at the end of time you wait,Wooing subtly the while Man’s spirit, temptedOn ever more extravagant quest, and baitHis blood with charm of secrecy and peril,Ay, and waylay the longings of his mind,Yielding by dear degrees what he exults to seize,Until he glows to seem the unconfinedMaster of earth, the world’s sole will, but onlyThat you may taste his glory, spent and shared,Before you press upon his lips the lastKiss of annihilation, and he be castInto the void prepared,Malignant Sirens!
Ah, did men feign you once, triumphant Sirens,Omnipotent in your lureOn a far spice-island over legendary surgesSinging, and divine you with the famished eyes of mariners,Listen in a trance to your voices, but listenIn a dream secure?
Ah, did men feign you once, triumphant Sirens,
Omnipotent in your lure
On a far spice-island over legendary surges
Singing, and divine you with the famished eyes of mariners,
Listen in a trance to your voices, but listen
In a dream secure?
Lost amid strange and hungry watersThey fabled the storm-worn sailor stungBy a vision of arms outstretched at the end of the world,—Eternal woman, wonderful, with a bosomHeaved as with love, and with warm, white eyelidsOver eyes cruel and young.From those voluptuous throats, magical throats,As out of a coral-lipped, an ivory-colouredDazzling flower, tormenting sweetness floats,Sweetness of voices, odour of strange, strange longingFelt on the flesh like trail of perfumed hair,In sound that stole like soft arms round the soulDrawn thither and inescapably awareOf nothing but the extreme ache to pressLips on those lips, that thirst to suck the breath,The heart’s blood, into theirs, till eyes grow dull,Till lips be lips no longer, and only a skullRoll from your feast of death,O sated Sirens!
Lost amid strange and hungry waters
They fabled the storm-worn sailor stung
By a vision of arms outstretched at the end of the world,—
Eternal woman, wonderful, with a bosom
Heaved as with love, and with warm, white eyelids
Over eyes cruel and young.
From those voluptuous throats, magical throats,
As out of a coral-lipped, an ivory-coloured
Dazzling flower, tormenting sweetness floats,
Sweetness of voices, odour of strange, strange longing
Felt on the flesh like trail of perfumed hair,
In sound that stole like soft arms round the soul
Drawn thither and inescapably aware
Of nothing but the extreme ache to press
Lips on those lips, that thirst to suck the breath,
The heart’s blood, into theirs, till eyes grow dull,
Till lips be lips no longer, and only a skull
Roll from your feast of death,
O sated Sirens!
But what if it be that fond perfidious VoicesWith different music lureEven us who have cast far from us the fables of old?If the pride of our quest undo us, and they enchant usSimple as those lost mariners, but no longerIn dream secure?
But what if it be that fond perfidious Voices
With different music lure
Even us who have cast far from us the fables of old?
If the pride of our quest undo us, and they enchant us
Simple as those lost mariners, but no longer
In dream secure?
If not with sorcery of song in a scarlet mouthAnd with eyes of desireYou ensnare the easy senses and perishing flesh,But with spiritual lure you hunger to entice usBeyond the borders of knowledge, O evilly enamoured,O terrible choir?If shadowy at the end of time you wait,Wooing subtly the while Man’s spirit, temptedOn ever more extravagant quest, and baitHis blood with charm of secrecy and peril,Ay, and waylay the longings of his mind,Yielding by dear degrees what he exults to seize,Until he glows to seem the unconfinedMaster of earth, the world’s sole will, but onlyThat you may taste his glory, spent and shared,Before you press upon his lips the lastKiss of annihilation, and he be castInto the void prepared,Malignant Sirens!
If not with sorcery of song in a scarlet mouth
And with eyes of desire
You ensnare the easy senses and perishing flesh,
But with spiritual lure you hunger to entice us
Beyond the borders of knowledge, O evilly enamoured,
O terrible choir?
If shadowy at the end of time you wait,
Wooing subtly the while Man’s spirit, tempted
On ever more extravagant quest, and bait
His blood with charm of secrecy and peril,
Ay, and waylay the longings of his mind,
Yielding by dear degrees what he exults to seize,
Until he glows to seem the unconfined
Master of earth, the world’s sole will, but only
That you may taste his glory, spent and shared,
Before you press upon his lips the last
Kiss of annihilation, and he be cast
Into the void prepared,
Malignant Sirens!
II. 3
‘Whither, Whither?’ I heard a cryingThat asked of Night, and there was none replying.‘Whither, into what land of change and wrack,Into what time out-racing thought and will,With feet borne onward and mind beaten backOver an earth that our lost loves has buried,Against a dark wind blowing chill,Whither are we driven, whither hurried?‘Lovely vales of our youth, where hauntedPeace of the ripening years, and hope that vauntedIts strength so rooted in earth’s purposesThat children’s children should possess peace there!O sunny vales, and corn, and guardian trees,Shut off by the blind rain’s down-dropping curtain,—Vanished, as if they never were,And doubt alone were certain!‘Heaven we feigned in a time perfectingOur missed design, and beauty of our neglecting.There should we live completed in an ageWise from our loss and rich with all our spoil,A race redeeming its lost heritage,Not by vain fears checked, nor by vain hopes cheated.—If that heaven fade, and futureless we toil,And battle already defeated?‘Words of beauty, words of assuagingMajesty saw we on high above time’s ragingInscribed as over some vast porch serene;Pardon: the heart flowed out on tides of peace.Justice: the soiled soul hasted to be clean.One word we named not, dreamed not, feared not even,The end.—If All utterly cease;Earth, Time, Desire, Hell, Heaven?’Titan spirit of god-like stature;Star-measurer, holder of deep clues of nature;Maker, but half-aware of what he makes,Of what the extravagant flame in him devours,And what unshapen Vastness he awakes,—Toiled in the terrible webs his mind invented,And caught in flame that twists and towers,Man strives with himself tormented.Born for ever to move, the DancerOf dark Creation’s dream, its destined answer,—Joy were those limbs created to express!Now like one darkly stumbling, while his brainPuzzles each motion with too anxious stress,Under the glory of stars that move unhaltingHe burns with the old need onward still to strain,Mis-timed, way-lost, defaulting.
‘Whither, Whither?’ I heard a cryingThat asked of Night, and there was none replying.‘Whither, into what land of change and wrack,Into what time out-racing thought and will,With feet borne onward and mind beaten backOver an earth that our lost loves has buried,Against a dark wind blowing chill,Whither are we driven, whither hurried?‘Lovely vales of our youth, where hauntedPeace of the ripening years, and hope that vauntedIts strength so rooted in earth’s purposesThat children’s children should possess peace there!O sunny vales, and corn, and guardian trees,Shut off by the blind rain’s down-dropping curtain,—Vanished, as if they never were,And doubt alone were certain!‘Heaven we feigned in a time perfectingOur missed design, and beauty of our neglecting.There should we live completed in an ageWise from our loss and rich with all our spoil,A race redeeming its lost heritage,Not by vain fears checked, nor by vain hopes cheated.—If that heaven fade, and futureless we toil,And battle already defeated?‘Words of beauty, words of assuagingMajesty saw we on high above time’s ragingInscribed as over some vast porch serene;Pardon: the heart flowed out on tides of peace.Justice: the soiled soul hasted to be clean.One word we named not, dreamed not, feared not even,The end.—If All utterly cease;Earth, Time, Desire, Hell, Heaven?’Titan spirit of god-like stature;Star-measurer, holder of deep clues of nature;Maker, but half-aware of what he makes,Of what the extravagant flame in him devours,And what unshapen Vastness he awakes,—Toiled in the terrible webs his mind invented,And caught in flame that twists and towers,Man strives with himself tormented.Born for ever to move, the DancerOf dark Creation’s dream, its destined answer,—Joy were those limbs created to express!Now like one darkly stumbling, while his brainPuzzles each motion with too anxious stress,Under the glory of stars that move unhaltingHe burns with the old need onward still to strain,Mis-timed, way-lost, defaulting.
‘Whither, Whither?’ I heard a cryingThat asked of Night, and there was none replying.‘Whither, into what land of change and wrack,Into what time out-racing thought and will,With feet borne onward and mind beaten backOver an earth that our lost loves has buried,Against a dark wind blowing chill,Whither are we driven, whither hurried?
‘Whither, Whither?’ I heard a crying
That asked of Night, and there was none replying.
‘Whither, into what land of change and wrack,
Into what time out-racing thought and will,
With feet borne onward and mind beaten back
Over an earth that our lost loves has buried,
Against a dark wind blowing chill,
Whither are we driven, whither hurried?
‘Lovely vales of our youth, where hauntedPeace of the ripening years, and hope that vauntedIts strength so rooted in earth’s purposesThat children’s children should possess peace there!O sunny vales, and corn, and guardian trees,Shut off by the blind rain’s down-dropping curtain,—Vanished, as if they never were,And doubt alone were certain!
‘Lovely vales of our youth, where haunted
Peace of the ripening years, and hope that vaunted
Its strength so rooted in earth’s purposes
That children’s children should possess peace there!
O sunny vales, and corn, and guardian trees,
Shut off by the blind rain’s down-dropping curtain,—
Vanished, as if they never were,
And doubt alone were certain!
‘Heaven we feigned in a time perfectingOur missed design, and beauty of our neglecting.There should we live completed in an ageWise from our loss and rich with all our spoil,A race redeeming its lost heritage,Not by vain fears checked, nor by vain hopes cheated.—If that heaven fade, and futureless we toil,And battle already defeated?
‘Heaven we feigned in a time perfecting
Our missed design, and beauty of our neglecting.
There should we live completed in an age
Wise from our loss and rich with all our spoil,
A race redeeming its lost heritage,
Not by vain fears checked, nor by vain hopes cheated.
—If that heaven fade, and futureless we toil,
And battle already defeated?
‘Words of beauty, words of assuagingMajesty saw we on high above time’s ragingInscribed as over some vast porch serene;Pardon: the heart flowed out on tides of peace.Justice: the soiled soul hasted to be clean.One word we named not, dreamed not, feared not even,The end.—If All utterly cease;Earth, Time, Desire, Hell, Heaven?’
‘Words of beauty, words of assuaging
Majesty saw we on high above time’s raging
Inscribed as over some vast porch serene;
Pardon: the heart flowed out on tides of peace.
Justice: the soiled soul hasted to be clean.
One word we named not, dreamed not, feared not even,
The end.—If All utterly cease;
Earth, Time, Desire, Hell, Heaven?’
Titan spirit of god-like stature;Star-measurer, holder of deep clues of nature;Maker, but half-aware of what he makes,Of what the extravagant flame in him devours,And what unshapen Vastness he awakes,—Toiled in the terrible webs his mind invented,And caught in flame that twists and towers,Man strives with himself tormented.
Titan spirit of god-like stature;
Star-measurer, holder of deep clues of nature;
Maker, but half-aware of what he makes,
Of what the extravagant flame in him devours,
And what unshapen Vastness he awakes,—
Toiled in the terrible webs his mind invented,
And caught in flame that twists and towers,
Man strives with himself tormented.
Born for ever to move, the DancerOf dark Creation’s dream, its destined answer,—Joy were those limbs created to express!Now like one darkly stumbling, while his brainPuzzles each motion with too anxious stress,Under the glory of stars that move unhaltingHe burns with the old need onward still to strain,Mis-timed, way-lost, defaulting.
Born for ever to move, the Dancer
Of dark Creation’s dream, its destined answer,—
Joy were those limbs created to express!
Now like one darkly stumbling, while his brain
Puzzles each motion with too anxious stress,
Under the glory of stars that move unhalting
He burns with the old need onward still to strain,
Mis-timed, way-lost, defaulting.
II. 4
Hearken to the eternal lovers rejoicing!A sunrise in their hearts, a music in their veins,Their bodies make sweet singing to one another;They bathe in beams from one another’s eyes.They rejoice to belong to the Eternal DelightUpon whose universe of buoyance they are launched,That questions not of its way nor of its havenBut is both way and haven where it hies.They marvel to be born in a new element,To meet like streams as they go chiming to the sea,To move like flames that touch and tremble; and marvellingThey look back on the voided shell they quit.Dawn within dawn, light within light, unfolds for themThe secret of the world that flowing overflowsThe sun and the moon and the farthest of the stars,And it abounds in them, and they in it.Beautiful are their fears as the shy-footed fawnsSafe only in wildness from the old hunter, Time,To be assured in shadow of the heart’s solitude,Where joy finds joy that never Time records.They have made virgin words of that soiled alphabetWherewith have been written histories of sorrow,Labour and long defeat, and proud and vain conquest;And all their lore is those sufficing words.Magnificent they match the music of a nameAgainst abhorred Silence and terrors of the abyss,The trust of a smile against all-ignoring Night,And one low voice against Oblivion’s greed.Difference drew them to the enamoured wrestle,Chosen, inevitable dear antagonists;They cry one to the other; ‘Alone I was not I,’‘O lovely danger!’ and ‘O my angel need!’‘Because thy sweetness is so troubling and so sharp,Full of blood-thrilling strangeness, unexplored peril,Never to be possessed, always to be desired,Thou unknown world, I will dare all for thee.’‘Though in a moment thou hast made me to forgetAll that I was and had, triumphing I hold thee;To thy darkness of strength I give and commit me;Here is thy world, O sail upon my sea!’As the East that quickens and flushes to the heightAnswering the ardour of the West, and as a roseQuivers on the western cloud before the dayspring,Divided as the East and West they are:But upon ways invisible to mortal senseMoves their bright union, where was created newLove’s wondrous world; from the darkness it emerges;It is their Evening and their Morning Star.Out of the hollows of unpenetrated NightFrom afar calls to them, though they have known it not,A voice that is theirs, yet is not theirs, a new voiceNever yet heard, yet older than all things;Laughter of a child’s voice, sweeter than any soundOn the earth or in the air, voice of eternal joy,Victorious over the bowed wisdom of mortals,A well beyond the world, that springs and sings.
Hearken to the eternal lovers rejoicing!A sunrise in their hearts, a music in their veins,Their bodies make sweet singing to one another;They bathe in beams from one another’s eyes.They rejoice to belong to the Eternal DelightUpon whose universe of buoyance they are launched,That questions not of its way nor of its havenBut is both way and haven where it hies.They marvel to be born in a new element,To meet like streams as they go chiming to the sea,To move like flames that touch and tremble; and marvellingThey look back on the voided shell they quit.Dawn within dawn, light within light, unfolds for themThe secret of the world that flowing overflowsThe sun and the moon and the farthest of the stars,And it abounds in them, and they in it.Beautiful are their fears as the shy-footed fawnsSafe only in wildness from the old hunter, Time,To be assured in shadow of the heart’s solitude,Where joy finds joy that never Time records.They have made virgin words of that soiled alphabetWherewith have been written histories of sorrow,Labour and long defeat, and proud and vain conquest;And all their lore is those sufficing words.Magnificent they match the music of a nameAgainst abhorred Silence and terrors of the abyss,The trust of a smile against all-ignoring Night,And one low voice against Oblivion’s greed.Difference drew them to the enamoured wrestle,Chosen, inevitable dear antagonists;They cry one to the other; ‘Alone I was not I,’‘O lovely danger!’ and ‘O my angel need!’‘Because thy sweetness is so troubling and so sharp,Full of blood-thrilling strangeness, unexplored peril,Never to be possessed, always to be desired,Thou unknown world, I will dare all for thee.’‘Though in a moment thou hast made me to forgetAll that I was and had, triumphing I hold thee;To thy darkness of strength I give and commit me;Here is thy world, O sail upon my sea!’As the East that quickens and flushes to the heightAnswering the ardour of the West, and as a roseQuivers on the western cloud before the dayspring,Divided as the East and West they are:But upon ways invisible to mortal senseMoves their bright union, where was created newLove’s wondrous world; from the darkness it emerges;It is their Evening and their Morning Star.Out of the hollows of unpenetrated NightFrom afar calls to them, though they have known it not,A voice that is theirs, yet is not theirs, a new voiceNever yet heard, yet older than all things;Laughter of a child’s voice, sweeter than any soundOn the earth or in the air, voice of eternal joy,Victorious over the bowed wisdom of mortals,A well beyond the world, that springs and sings.
Hearken to the eternal lovers rejoicing!A sunrise in their hearts, a music in their veins,Their bodies make sweet singing to one another;They bathe in beams from one another’s eyes.They rejoice to belong to the Eternal DelightUpon whose universe of buoyance they are launched,That questions not of its way nor of its havenBut is both way and haven where it hies.
Hearken to the eternal lovers rejoicing!
A sunrise in their hearts, a music in their veins,
Their bodies make sweet singing to one another;
They bathe in beams from one another’s eyes.
They rejoice to belong to the Eternal Delight
Upon whose universe of buoyance they are launched,
That questions not of its way nor of its haven
But is both way and haven where it hies.
They marvel to be born in a new element,To meet like streams as they go chiming to the sea,To move like flames that touch and tremble; and marvellingThey look back on the voided shell they quit.Dawn within dawn, light within light, unfolds for themThe secret of the world that flowing overflowsThe sun and the moon and the farthest of the stars,And it abounds in them, and they in it.
They marvel to be born in a new element,
To meet like streams as they go chiming to the sea,
To move like flames that touch and tremble; and marvelling
They look back on the voided shell they quit.
Dawn within dawn, light within light, unfolds for them
The secret of the world that flowing overflows
The sun and the moon and the farthest of the stars,
And it abounds in them, and they in it.
Beautiful are their fears as the shy-footed fawnsSafe only in wildness from the old hunter, Time,To be assured in shadow of the heart’s solitude,Where joy finds joy that never Time records.They have made virgin words of that soiled alphabetWherewith have been written histories of sorrow,Labour and long defeat, and proud and vain conquest;And all their lore is those sufficing words.
Beautiful are their fears as the shy-footed fawns
Safe only in wildness from the old hunter, Time,
To be assured in shadow of the heart’s solitude,
Where joy finds joy that never Time records.
They have made virgin words of that soiled alphabet
Wherewith have been written histories of sorrow,
Labour and long defeat, and proud and vain conquest;
And all their lore is those sufficing words.
Magnificent they match the music of a nameAgainst abhorred Silence and terrors of the abyss,The trust of a smile against all-ignoring Night,And one low voice against Oblivion’s greed.Difference drew them to the enamoured wrestle,Chosen, inevitable dear antagonists;They cry one to the other; ‘Alone I was not I,’‘O lovely danger!’ and ‘O my angel need!’
Magnificent they match the music of a name
Against abhorred Silence and terrors of the abyss,
The trust of a smile against all-ignoring Night,
And one low voice against Oblivion’s greed.
Difference drew them to the enamoured wrestle,
Chosen, inevitable dear antagonists;
They cry one to the other; ‘Alone I was not I,’
‘O lovely danger!’ and ‘O my angel need!’
‘Because thy sweetness is so troubling and so sharp,Full of blood-thrilling strangeness, unexplored peril,Never to be possessed, always to be desired,Thou unknown world, I will dare all for thee.’‘Though in a moment thou hast made me to forgetAll that I was and had, triumphing I hold thee;To thy darkness of strength I give and commit me;Here is thy world, O sail upon my sea!’
‘Because thy sweetness is so troubling and so sharp,
Full of blood-thrilling strangeness, unexplored peril,
Never to be possessed, always to be desired,
Thou unknown world, I will dare all for thee.’
‘Though in a moment thou hast made me to forget
All that I was and had, triumphing I hold thee;
To thy darkness of strength I give and commit me;
Here is thy world, O sail upon my sea!’
As the East that quickens and flushes to the heightAnswering the ardour of the West, and as a roseQuivers on the western cloud before the dayspring,Divided as the East and West they are:But upon ways invisible to mortal senseMoves their bright union, where was created newLove’s wondrous world; from the darkness it emerges;It is their Evening and their Morning Star.
As the East that quickens and flushes to the height
Answering the ardour of the West, and as a rose
Quivers on the western cloud before the dayspring,
Divided as the East and West they are:
But upon ways invisible to mortal sense
Moves their bright union, where was created new
Love’s wondrous world; from the darkness it emerges;
It is their Evening and their Morning Star.
Out of the hollows of unpenetrated NightFrom afar calls to them, though they have known it not,A voice that is theirs, yet is not theirs, a new voiceNever yet heard, yet older than all things;Laughter of a child’s voice, sweeter than any soundOn the earth or in the air, voice of eternal joy,Victorious over the bowed wisdom of mortals,A well beyond the world, that springs and sings.
Out of the hollows of unpenetrated Night
From afar calls to them, though they have known it not,
A voice that is theirs, yet is not theirs, a new voice
Never yet heard, yet older than all things;
Laughter of a child’s voice, sweeter than any sound
On the earth or in the air, voice of eternal joy,
Victorious over the bowed wisdom of mortals,
A well beyond the world, that springs and sings.